


Puca Paced Pub Crawl

by ladyarcherfan3



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doyles.  On a pub crawl in Ireland. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puca Paced Pub Crawl

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to gloriousclio for her beta work. And for introducing me to this wonderful podcast.

 

_“There was once a man with a glass, _

_ who traveled with his lovely lass, _

_ then they felt that exquisite pain  _

_ of empty flasks out in the rain, _

_ For a lack of liquor must be given a pass.”  _

“Frank, darling, just because we are in Limerick, it does not mean you have to speak in them.”  

“Oh, doesn’t it?  Didn’t that sign just say _ Welcome to Limerick _ ?” 

“Yes.   _ Welcome, To Limerick_.” 

“Ah, yes, I see!  It is difficult to see through the rain streaked windows of the train.  Still, it could be taken as in invitation!”  

“Yes, quite!  And I shall reward your efforts by filling that empty glass.”  Sadie lifted the bottle of Jameson.  

“Ah, the nectar of the Irish gods, indeed!” Frank declared and savored the glass longer than he would have the average gin or martini.  Which wasn’t long.  “Better fill it up again,  Sadie, and your glass too!”  

“What shall we toast to?”     

“Next stop:  Adare !” the conductor’s voice boomed as he strode through the carriage.  

Frank lifted his glass.  “Here’s to  Adare !   A dare, perhaps to finish this bottle before our next stop.”

“I can drink to that,” Sadie replied.  

Their glasses clinked together brightly.  

She continued after a healthy swallow, “ Mmm , but if we do intend to take on a dare to drink this bottle before our next stop, we’d better hurry, as  Adare is our stop!”  

“A dare to beat  Adare !” Frank agreed, and refilled their glasses.  “What would I ever do without you, Sadie dear, to keep me on track?” 

“Undoubtedly get lost trying to get to anywhere but the liquor cabinet.  But, obviously, you don’t have to worry about that.”  

“I call for a toast to that sentiment!” 

_ Clink!  _

By the time the train rolled to a stop at the  Adare station, the bottle of Jameson stood forlorn and empty. But another had been opened and used to fill several large flasks to sustain the  Doyles on the unknown distances to the next pub.

"And onwards on our pub crawl of Ireland!" Frank declared as the train pulled away.

"And the rain has stopped to make the walk even more comfortable!"

“Here’s to the weather!”  

_ Clink!  _

They set off into the little village, exclaiming and toasting to all of the quaint  features of the village, from the thatched roofs, to the very green color of the grass.  

“Oh, Frank, look at that gorgeous black horse!”  

“It is a beauty, a black beauty!   With very golden eyes.”

The horse, standing just to t he side of the road, flicked it s ears in their direction and said, “Neigh.”  

“Oh,  horsie , don’t deny it, you’re gorgeous!”  She turned to Frank.  “What do horses like, again?” 

“I believe they like apples, oats, and pats,”  Frank replied.

Sadie rushed forward.  “I can pat you, but I don’t have the first two, though whiskey is made from grain, so I’d be willing to share a drink,” she told the black horse.  “I even have a spare flask!” 

The horse craned it s neck to look at her, gold eye gleaming bright and said, “Thank ye, I don’t mind if I do.  _ Sláinte _. ” I t grabbed the flask in  it s teeth and drained it.   

“Frank!  The horse is talking!”  

“Yes, I can hear that!”  

“And drinking!”

“I can see that as well.”  

“Is that usual in Ireland, do you think?”  

“Well, I would warrant that the talking is not.  The drinking, I am not so certain about.” 

The horse tossed aside the now empty flask.   “Americans?  At least you h ave good taste.”  It smacked it s lips.  “Now, you gave me a drink, and I will offer you a favor in return.   How about a ride to your next destination?”

“Oh, yes, let’s do!  Give me a leg up, darling.”  

Frank did and Sadie settled as side saddle as sh e could without a saddle.   Frank used a low stone wall to climb up behind her.  The horse bobbed his head in satisfaction and started walking.    

“You know, Sadie darling, I’ve been thinking.”  

“Yes Frank?”

“This horse.  It is a rather unique creature.”  

“How so?”

“Think about it.  It talks, it drinks, and it encouraged us to ride...”  

“And it is the most perfect midnight black color, and its golden eyes  are  exquisite.” 

“What does that add up to?”  

“Can I have a clue?”  

“Better yet, have a drink.”  

“Splendid idea. A t oast to clues!”

_ Clink!  _

“So has it gotten any clearer?”  

“Um, yes perhaps.”  

“Then what do you suppose this horse actually is?” 

“Um, all black, gold eyes, talks,  wants to give us a ride, Irish.  Oh!  I know!   A  Pooka !”

“It’ _s_ _ Púca _ ,” the horse said.  “But that’s close enough.”  And it sprang into a wild gallop.

“Oh!”  Sadie cried over the roar of the wind.  “This must be the Wild Ride!  Oh,  Pooka -Pony, this is so fast!”  

“Right you are, Sadie!  It’s the Wild Ride!  Oh look!  We’re nearly flying above County Down!”  

“Oh Frank, can you imagine how many pubs we could get to in a  day  if we convinced the  Pooka to come along on our pub crawl?”

“It would be less of a crawl and more of a flight, but I take your meaning!  Where should we go now?”  

“What was that place we just passed?   Temple Bar?”

“The Temple of the Bars?  Let’s go!”

The wild flight of the  Púca slowed suddenly.  “Are the pair of you not the least little bit worried or scared from the Wild Ride?”  

“Oh.  Are we supposed to be?” Frank wondered.  

“If so, then yes!  We are terrified!” Sadie reassured the  Púca .

“You two are sad liars,” the  Púca , head and ears drooping and it s Irish accent thickening.  

“Well, they do say,  en vino  veritas ,” Sadie said.  

“Or in this case, Jameson,” Frank interjected.  

“You two are just  makin ’ my job a bit difficult,” the  Púca continued. 

“Oh,  Pooka -Pony, don’t be sad,” Sadie told him.  “Come on, we’ll buy you a drink!”

“Or several, to cure your long face.”

The  Púca twisted his neck back to look, unamused, at Frank.   “Very funny.  But I accept.” 

“Excellent!” Frank exclaimed.  “And I know exactly where I want to give that drink - or drinks to you.   That temple of bars!”

The  Púca rolled its golden eyes.  “It’s not a temple of bars-”

Frank and Sadie groaned.

“But it does have a lot of pubs,” it finished. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

“Temple Bar, here we come!”  Saide cried. 

“M y , they have a liquor stock both wide and deep as the sea, between the three of us,” the  Púca intoned.  

“Cheers to that!”  Frank said as the  Púca started galloping again, as smooth as the best brandy.  

“What’s that phrase they say over here?” Sadie wondered.   “Slant- chee ?”

“ Sláinte , ” the  Púca corrected and stopped smoothly in front of the first pub.  

And though it was a close thing, Ireland did manage to have more liquor than the combined efforts of the  Doyles and the  Púca could dry out.  

But it was close.

_ Fin.   _


End file.
